


wait forever (always looking straight)

by plinys



Category: Fantastic Four (2015)
Genre: Jewish Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the dorky sweater that really does it for Reed. The blues and whites knitted together, forming misshaped Stars of David and a giant dreidel in the center, combined with the look on his friend’s face making it clear that he would rather be any other place in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wait forever (always looking straight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liviapenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/gifts).



It’s the dorky sweater that really does it for Reed.

The blues and whites knitted together, forming misshaped Stars of David and a giant dreidel in the center, combined with the look on his friend’s face making it clear that he would rather be any other place in the world. Laughing seems inevitable, and truth be told, he had been in need of a good laugh.

“Ben-“

“My mom made me wear it,” Ben says, the same thing he’s been saying since they were ten years old, standing together off to the side during the fifth grade _holiday_ party (which was really just a thinly veiled Christmas party). “You’d think by senior year that she would have forgotten or something.”

“No such luck?”

Ben gestures dramatically down his body. “None.”

See the thing is, even though Ben looks like a total dorky – as was one of the down sides of ugly sweaters and especially ugly Hanukkah sweaters – he also looked really good. Something about the blue in the sweater bringing out his eyes, or just the fact that lately it had been becoming more and more apparent to Reed that his friend was really attractive. It also was becoming more and more apparent to Reed that he was definitely having gay thoughts about his best friend.

But really who hadn’t had gay thoughts?

“You look great,” Reed says, with just a hint of teasing sarcasm.

Ben predictably rolls his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

Reed casts one last look around the party.

The few teachers in charge barely keeping an eye on the high schoolers who have taken of the gymnasium for their holiday celebration, the abundance of tinsel hanging from the basketball hoops, and the near grinding happening on the court as another rendition of _Frosty The Snowman_ comes on.

Graduation couldn’t come soon enough.

“Please.”

They end up in Ben’s truck, because Reed still doesn’t have a car, and it’s too cold from them to just lurk on the sidewalk outside of the school grounds.

The passenger seat welcomes Reed like a familiar friend. The post it notes on the glove compartment read off his own messy handwriting, and there’s a pop can in the cup holder that Reed knows he’s the only one out of the two of them who can stand it. Sometimes he leaves thinks in Ben’s truck on purpose, usually because he figures he’ll need them later, but sometime just because he can.

Ben’s not pulling out of the parking lot, because really there isn’t anywhere to go. Reed’s place would be the usual answer, but his step-dad would notice that they were back too soon, and it wasn’t worth the argument. And Ben’s place… Well, not even Ben liked to spend time at his place.

“Just think, this is our last school mandated Christmas party.”

“Holiday party,” Reed corrects instructively.

Which gets him a snort in reply.

When he looks over at Ben to arch an eyebrow at him, he sees the lighter in his friend’s hand. It’s nearly the same blue color as his sweater, and without breaking eye contact, Ben grabs the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. 

Ben’s smoking again.

He picked it up sometime over the summer when Reed had been forced to spend a few weeks down south with his extended family. He remembered coming back and seeing Ben fiddling with the lighter, Reed hadn’t asked about it, but he was in the habit of wrinkling his nose whenever Ben lit one up.

A motion that he repeated, just before rolling down the window a bit, to let some cool but fresh air into the truck.

“You know shouldn’t you be saving that, for your candles or whatever,” Reed says.

Ben’s laugh in reply is good natured. “Hanukkah ended a week ago.”

“What? I thought it was during Christmas?”

Even as the words were out of his mouth he grimaced. If there was an award for worst friend in the world than Reed Richards probably deserved it. He probably could take the gold medal in the worst friend Olympics.

The laugh that spills from Ben is so sudden and warm that, Reed cannot help but laugh in return.

It hits him them that the only thing he will miss about graduation, about leaving Oyster Bay behind, and heading to whichever university accepts him, is that Ben plans to stay.

Ben always planned to stay, and that’s the tragedy of it all. Isn’t it?

This time next year he’ll be in another city celebrating the holidays by cramming for his final exams, maybe drinking spiked eggnog with his new college friends, and Ben – Ben will be here with his dorky Hanukkah sweaters working at the junk yard. 

“Maybe we should go back to the party,” Reed says, without thinking, the words spilling out of his mouth.

“Because you’re sick of me smoking?”

“No, because,” Reed pauses, unable to look at Ben. Instead he looks out the front window, at the snow slowly falling from the sky, because they can’t seem to go a day without snow around this time of year. “Because this is the last of these stupid Christmas parties that we have to attend and-“

“Holiday party,” Ben corrects, the parrot of Reed’s early words, which cause to give him a moment’s pause. Before playfully flipping Ben off. Ben mimics the motion, with a stupid grin. Before speaking the very thoughts that had been plaguing Reed’s mind.

“You know, just because we’re not going to have to go to any more of these doesn’t mean that next year won’t be equally tacky.”

“I know,” Reed insists. Even though he knows that Ben’s just saying that to make him feel better, everything’s already changing. He can feel it in his bones.

“Look,” Ben drawls, “If it makes you feel any better, next year I’ll have my mom make you one of the dorky sweaters, ship it off to Harvard-“ Reed snorts at that, “-or wherever you end up. Just don’t make me go back in there.”

He gives in far too easily.

Maybe Ben’s right.

“Fine, but can we at least get out of this parking lot and get like Eggnog McFlurries or something?”

 

 


End file.
